Differences
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: The Lorax notices that the Once-ler acts different around his family. These are his observations. Companion piece to 'They've Done so Much to You'. No slash, purely friendship. One-shot turned collection of one-shots.
1. Differences

_**Differences**_

**A/N: Okay, this is a companion piece to 'They've Done so Much to You' but it doesn't really need to be read for you to understand, because this is a bit of a prequel to that one, where you get to see, through the Lorax's eyes, when and why he decided to try and drive the Once-ler's family out of the forest. I just really love Once-ler/Lorax friendship stuff, and I really thought that the Lorax might notice how badly Once-ler's family treated him, but...he never did. **

**Anyway, much like my other story, 'They've Done so Much to You', I'm considering turning this into more of a chapter story, but it'd be the story through the Lorax's eyes, while 'They've Done so Much to You' is the story through the Once-ler's eyes... **

* * *

Should the Lorax have noticed? He didn't know. If he really hated the Beanpole as much as he said he did, he definitely shouldn't have. But then, he was known for being observant.

He sighed, watching it unfold before him, the routine now heartbreakingly familiar. On second thought, he decided, Beanpole wasn't all that bad.

But how he had wound up different from that dysfunctional mess of a family…

Yes, that family was the cause of the Lorax's troubles. It wasn't just because they thought they could stride in here and take over the whole forest, although that was certainly part of it. The thing that really bothered him was that the family was just plain mean. Not to him, of course, because they rarely ever saw him. He stayed mostly in the forest whenever they were around, but he heard enough yelling coming from the direction of the little cottage and he heard enough snippets of conversation to know. They weren't mean to him, but they were mean to his Beanpole!

And his Beanpole seemed quite used to it, even to expect it. But he was…different around his family. In more ways than one.

**1. He never played guitar.**

This was odd in and of itself. The Lorax didn't think he'd ever seen Beanpole without the familiar black and white instrument slung around his neck, and the sight of it was odd. Not just odd, but unsettling. And even when he did have it, his hands would go to the strings in nervous habit, only to stray instantly away again at his mother's look of disapproval.

She would shake her head and heave a sigh. A look of hurt would flash in his blue eyes. In the next instant, it was gone and his hands were back by his sides in a gesture of studied obedience. His mother couldn't have cared less; just so long as he quit fiddling around with that silly old guitar, she was happy.

But the Lorax noticed, and the Lorax cared. He surprised himself by feeling anger towards that horrible woman. Who was she to make his Beanpole feel self-conscious about his music?

**2. He never danced or sang.**

Even disconnected from the other things, this, in itself, was a worrying observation. Beanpole was naturally an optimistic, energetic person and to see him walking around, straight-backed and stiff as a robot, made the Lorax think. He would watch his Beanpole when the boy was away from his family, and there were a few moments when it would seem that he was loosening up, whistling and skipping just a bit. And then a family member would suddenly appear, and it was back to that robot walk again. Straight-backed and stiff.

**3. He never ate**

As a rule, Beanpole didn't eat much, or so it seemed to the Lorax. But it seemed that no food ever passed his lips when his family was around. His mouth was always pressed into a thin line, his eyes flicking nervously from face to face as he watched them chew, and he'd poke sadly at the food with his own fork, but he wouldn't pick it up or eat it. And that made the Lorax wonder, too.

**4. He didn't give a genuine smile**

Now, this one wasn't entirely true, but it was good enough for the Lorax to add to his mental list of their wrongdoings against Beanpole. His smiles around his family were careful, guarded, like he expected them to laugh at him at any moment. There was one quick quirk of the lips the Lorax remembered seeing, and that quirk grew bigger and bigger until it formed the happiest, widest smile the guardian had ever seen. A smile that literally sang of glee. And it made him sick to remember it, Beanpole's mother throwing her arms around him, saying, "Oh, Oncie, you've made me so proud!"

Beanpole blinked for a second, his mouth falling into a perfect 'O'. And then it relaxed into a wonderful smile, the smile that meant that he felt truly loved and cared for, wanted for the first time in his life.

And the Lorax hated that woman even more, for never giving his Beanpole a reason to smile like that once in his life.

**5. He was anxious**

Thin and pale, his Beanpole generally seemed anxious about something, but now there was a concrete reason behind it, something the Lorax could not ignore. A forced smile, a bright yet false laugh…why didn't his family notice that he expected them to leave him? The Lorax wondered furiously, and then it hit him. It wasn't that they didn't notice; it was that they didn't care. They were planning to leave him behind anyway, because in the end, it wouldn't matter if they hurt Beanpole's feelings, or made him feel just as horrible as they always had. No, all that mattered to them was how much money had he made, how popular were his thneeds, and they certainly were getting more than ten percent of all profits, right? They were his family, after all! They'd raised him, they said.

No. No, they hadn't, the Lorax thought angrily, a terrible rage bubbling up in him. And that marked his decision to drive them out of the forest.


	2. Knitting and Grass Stains

**_Differences_**

**A/N: Because, nobody asked, another chapter to 'Differences'. If you guys feel like I'm just forcing you all to read this, just let me know and I'll take it down so you don't have to read this anymore. I'll keep writing regardless whether people like it, because I like it, but if you guys want me to take it down, I will.**

**Also, I don't see anything wrong with guys who knit. I personally find knitting kinda cool :) and guys who knit are just supercool, but I have a head canon that the Lorax would take the Onceler's knitting thing and run with it XD **

* * *

As if the Lorax needed any more confirmation that that family was the cause of all Beanpole's troubles. It was the first time in three days that he'd finally gotten out of the house, and that was only by announcing that he had a terrible case of cabin fever, and was going into the woods to take a break. Well, Beanpole hadn't really announced it – more like crawled out of the window of his bedroom to get away without being noticed. The task proved to be much harder than he thought; he kept tripping over his long legs on the way down and ended up with a mouthful of grass.

But despite all of this, his mood lightened the instant he was back amongst the forest animals, playing with the fish and grinning endlessly up at the swans, secretly slipping Pipsqueak marshmellow after marshmellow, and each time telling him that that was the last one, no, _he didn't have it anymore_…oh, alright, just _one_ more, but if Mustache finds out how many you've already had…

"Okay, but just one more, okay?" Completely ignoring the fact that he'd been saying that for the past hour. He settled comfortably down on the grass, plucking at the strings of his guitar. The screeching sound made all the animals wince and Pipsqueak's fur stood on end.

"Sorry," Beanpole said guiltily, reaching up and adjusting one of the black knobs on the side. "It's tuned up a bit higher than I thought it was, that's all."

When the Lorax finished his duties around the forest for the time being and came to make sure that Beanpole wasn't causing any trouble, he noticed the boy edged very slightly in front of Pipsqueak, blocking him from view. The guardian raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Hi," Beanpole offered him a grin, strumming his guitar a bit faster than usual, hoping to draw the Lorax's attention away from the oddly hyper Bar-ba-loot.

Despite the fact that he felt bad for the kid, the guardian simply wouldn't let himself ignore Pipsqueak's hyperactive manner. Coming around and resting a hand on the little guy's head, he rubbed him soothingly between the ears for a second, throwing the Once-ler an annoyed look. "Don't you have work to do or something? Some way to be useful?"

The normally cheerful sparkle in Beanpole's blue eyes flickered for a second, but the smile stayed in place, like someone had painted it on. "I'm giving myself a break."

He flopped back down on the grass, staring up at the sky. "It's too nice of a day to spend it all cooped up knitting."

"Knitting?" The Lorax repeated, sure he hadn't heard right.

The Once-ler nodded, still studying the clouds. "It's the only way I know how to make thneeds right now. Unfortunately, I have to find a new way, because Brett and Chett aren't doing as much work as they could be." He huffed out a breath. "They're absolutely _refusing_ to learn how to knit."

"Knitting?" The Lorax repeated in a strangely choked voice.

"Yes!" Beanpole's brows drew down into a scowl. "I told you, it's the only way I know how to—_why are you laughing_?!"

"Knitting!" And then the Lorax sank to the ground, all thoughts of Pipsqueak forgotten as he whooped with laughter. "You knit!"

"So what?!" The Once-ler reddened. "Loads of people do!"

"Loads of _females_ do!" The Lorax replied, still chortling.

"That's not true!" Beanpole was about as red as a cherry now, his thneed prototype around his neck as he glared at the guardian. "There…there are guys who like to knit, okay!"

"You knit!" The Lorax repeated, as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"Don't you have any trees to look after, Mustache?" snapped the Once-ler, rolling over, refusing to look at him. "My hobbies are none of your weird little business!"

"Alright, alright!" The Lorax held up his hands in surrender, trying not to laugh. "Knitting…" he repeated under his breath, shaking his head. His Beanpole was a weird one, that's for sure.

Said Beanpole angrily strummed his guitar, glaring up at the sky. "Go speak for the stupid trees," he mumbled under his breath.

"You're playing guitar again," the Lorax commented, refusing to let himself keep badgering Beanpole about his knitting. "I haven't heard you do that in awhile."

"Been busy," Beanpole replied nonchalantly – and a bit quickly, the Lorax thought. "Running a business and all. Becoming famous. Blowing minds. Selling thneeds."

"Mm." Grunted the Lorax. "You're starting to sound like you actually think highly of yourself."

"Who wouldn't?" Beanpole replied, grinning.

There was that smile that the Lorax had missed so much. After days of being around his family, never truly looking happy, the guardian felt himself beginning to smile a bit too upon seeing the kid looking so happy.

Beanpole hummed a tune softly, smiling at nothing. "Everybody needs a thneed…I never finished that jingle, did I?" he strummed again. "Do I even need to? I mean, everybody's buying them, anyway."

As the Lorax opened his mouth to give a sarcastic remark, the bushes rustled nearby and Brett leaped out of them, grinning ear-to-ear. He bent down and punched the Once-ler, hard, in the shoulder.

Beanpole grinned crookedly up at his brother, sitting up, but when Brett turned away, the Lorax saw his face crumple in pain. "Ow…" he breathed, hand going instantly to the offending area.

"Mom wants you to go to the market." Brett announced, oblivious to his brother's pain. "There are a couple things we need. And then she wanted to know where you were, and if you were off frolicking with that ridiculous Lorax or whatever, I was supposed to come here and drag you up by your stupid guitar if I had to."

And the Lorax noticed that the sparkle in Beanpole's eyes died suddenly. "I'm up." He rose to his feet, straightening his fedora. "What do we need, Brett?"

The Lorax could feel things that he wanted to say building up on his tongue, teetering on the edge…he opened his mouth to say just what he was thinking, but before he could, Brett said simply, "C'mon, I'll tell you on the way. Mom's gonna want to talk to you for a couple minutes before sending you off, I think."

"Alright, let's go."

* * *

The Lorax didn't need to strain his hearing to hear Beanpole's mother yelling, even though the cottage was far from where he was sitting.

"Oncie!" She sounded horrified, and the guardian could hear the clack-clack-clacking of her ridiculous blue boots that he suspected were made from real animal hide. He remembered the fox around her neck and shuddered.

"I'm here, Mom." Beanpole sounded tired and stressed, even to the Lorax's ears. "I'm going into the market right now, I promise…"

"You have grass stains!" As if there was nothing worse in the world than grass stains. "You're supposed to look smart, Oncie! You're supposed to look like a businessman! How can anyone believe that you're gonna be a success if your own mama can't believe it when she looks at you?"

_Oh, no, she didn't, _the Lorax thought, hoisting himself up off the ground, determined to go give this woman a piece of his mind.

But before he reached the spot, he heard Beanpole's reply, the weariness in his voice even clearer than before. "Let me get changed, Mom."

And then the slamming of the cottage door, and nothing but silence.


	3. Useless

_**Differences**_

**A/N: Okay, so, I realize this chapter isn't that great, but I am really trying here, okay? Also, I'm proud of myself just for updating. Furthermore, I've been finding some fics I posted on here only a couple months back, aaaaand I've come to realize I'm not a very good writer. I get some reviews telling me I am, and I'm really surprised nobody really flames me consistently. I deserve it for being so horrible at writing, BUT. The only way to get better is practice, right? **

* * *

A shout awoke the Lorax suddenly from his sleep, and he sat bolt upright, looking around to see his Beanpole rubbing a tired hand across his face. _That woman_ was standing in the doorway, and the guardian of the forest felt his mood worsen instantly. She had a hand over her mouth, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. The hand was dainty, the nails perfectly manicured.

"Oncie!" Her voice was shrill enough to break glass.

"I'm up!" Beanpole shoved his blankets off and stumbled over to his clothes, eyes still closed.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, pointing an accusing finger in the direction of the bed. "What is…what is…what is THAT doing in your bed?"

With a start and a hot flash of anger, the Lorax realized that she was talking about _him_.

His Beanpole blushed a bright red. "I…he…well…it's…it's, uh, it's complicated, we're just going through a cold snap right now and, um, he doesn't want to sleep outside, because it's really cold, so—

"You mean, this has happened before?" Beanpole's mother clutched at her heart like she was about to faint, and the Lorax scowled. "You have some dirty animal cuddling you in your bed _every night_?"

If it was possible, Beanpole's blush deepened. "No, we don't cuddle—

"Oi!" The Lorax interjected angrily. "Watch who you're calling a dirty animal, lady!"

Beanpole sent the guardian a 'can you not' look. "Mom, we don't cuddle, honestly, and he doesn't sleep in my bed every night, it's just when he's really cold—

"What are all these animals doing here?!" she wailed in despair, putting a hand on the wall as though her knees were no longer going to support her. "They come here _every night_?!"

"No!" Beanpole was still madly trying to defend himself, but even the Lorax could tell it was a lost cause. "I…they just…it's the cold snap, okay?!"

"Oncie, you've got to stop this!" His mother declared, miraculously regaining her balance once again, only to take a couple steps towards him and tower over him. He shrank down a bit, as if thinking that appearing shorter would please her to some degree. "You're a businessman, and you're cuddling all the animals! You don't have time for that! You need to do what's best for the company and your momma! Now, change out of those duck pajamas! You look like an idiot! Get changed and get to work, Oncie!"

Beanpole wilted. "Yes, Mom."

The Lorax really, really didn't want to make things harder for Beanpole, but he was just finding it too hard to sit there and bite his tongue. "What does it matter if me and the other animals sleep here a couple nights?" The Lorax snapped. "You might be deaf from all the hairspray, but in case you hadn't noticed, your son said it wasn't a—

His tirade was cut off by the fact that Beanpole clamped a sweaty, shaking palm over his mouth, sending his mother a nervous, mortified look. "Mom, I'm sorry, he doesn't have the best filter—

"Oncie." Now her voice was dangerously sweet, almost scary. "I want you to take him off the premises." She motioned to the Lorax, who scowled angrily at her. _Take him off the premises? _Did she really think he was going to be that easy to get rid of? He would show her, all right. He would drive her crazy if he had to, whatever it took to show her who was boss, and, although he wouldn't admit it, even to himself, but he was also ready to show her she couldn't hurt his Beanpole anymore.

"Wh-what?" Beanpole froze, his other hand halfway to helping the first in covering the Lorax's mouth. He looked at his mother for a moment in disbelief. "What do you mean, take him off the premises?"

"Take him away from here, Oncie," his mother snapped. "And make sure he doesn't come back."

Beanpole flinched and looked down at the Lorax worriedly as his mother tried to sweep out of the room. "I…I can't do that, Mom." He sounded very small. He sounded more like a little boy than he ever had.

"What?" The woman snapped, turning back to glare at her son.

"He speaks for the trees, especially the ones in this forest," he explained. "He's kind of tied to this place – I don't think he _can_ leave anymore."

"Oncie," his mother sighed, and the Lorax felt his gut twisting at the clearly despised nickname, "I'm givin' you a simple job. You can't even do one thing for your momma? Well, I guess that's to be expected from you. Never amount to anything."

She slammed the door, leaving the animals of the forest, still snoozing, in the room, Beanpole's hand still over the Lorax's mouth.

"What…what did she just say?" The Lorax sputtered, swatting the boy's hand away so he could speak freely. "Did she just…did she just say you were…?" His voice trailed off, and he found himself unable to put the sudden anger he felt into words.

Beanpole stared, frozen, at the door for a second, before turning and methodically stripping off his pajamas, replacing them with his familiar pinstriped trousers and white shirt. He pulled the vest on over it, buttoned it up and ran his fingers through his black hair.

"Did she just say what I think she said?" Oddly, the Lorax's voice lacked the proper anger that he felt; it was dulled by the sense of 'I told you so' coursing through him. He had been trying to find an opening to speak with Beanpole about this, been trying to tell him he didn't need his family whatsoever. "Did she just tell you—

"Drop it, Mustache." The boy's voice was oddly robotic, as if he couldn't gather together enough feeling to even so much as sound like he cared. "It's nothing new."

"Don't tell me she's said that before," the guardian persisted, kicking off the blankets and crawling off the bed, fixing Beanpole with a stern look. Unfortunately, this look was wasted; the boy was busily plopping his fedora back on his head, looking in the mirror at himself as if he wanted to memorize his reflection.

"It doesn't matter," Beanpole shrugged. "She was only trying to motivate me, she said that herself."

"Wait, wait, wait." The Lorax insisted, holding up his hands and planting himself in front of the door. "Did you seriously just say that she does that to _motivate you_?"

"Well…" Beanpole hesitated for a fraction of a second, and in that second, the Lorax spotted all the pain and anguish on the boy's face, lurking in his blue eyes. And he thought maybe Beanpole was going to say that it was wrong of her to use that excuse, wrong of her to say he was never going to amount to anything…and then he didn't. "She thinks that if she instills a desire in me to prove her wrong, it'll motivate me to do something right."

"Something _right_?" The Lorax repeated testily as Beanpole reached for the doorknob, which was a good two feet above the spirit's head.

"Yes, something _right_." Beanpole's irritated tone mimicked the Lorax's, but there was no note of incredulity in his. "Because, as far as most everyone who's ever met me is concerned, I'm _useless_."

And then the Lorax was forced to step out of the way as Beanpole jerked the door open and slipped out, but he couldn't help scowling after him. Well, if nobody else was going to tell the kid he wasn't useless, then the guardian would. Through his actions and his words. And he would keep telling him until the kid didn't need to be told anymore, until the kid really believed it for himself.


End file.
